


By Order Of The Cat

by Akumeoi



Category: Bunty (comic serial and annual), Catch the Cat (comic)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Catch the cat, Gen, Happy Ending, Post-Canon, british comics, bunty - Freeform, catch the cat!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:21:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24155770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akumeoi/pseuds/Akumeoi
Summary: WHEN the Germans occupied France in 1940, the citizens of one small town watched in dismay – and did as little as possible to help the invaders. The mayor’s daughter, Marie Bonnet, was disliked by the town for appearing to be too friendly with the Germans. No one suspected that she was really a daring resister called the Cat. All through the war, she suffered under the townspeople’s hateful gaze while her alter ego was praised for acts of heroism in the same breath.But now it is 1944 and Marie’s town has just been liberated. As in many other French towns, suspected German sympathisers are subject to mob vigilante justice. How will the Cat get out of this one? And, more importantly, how will Marie reclaim her reputation and finally, finally be able to reveal her true self, her bravery in the midst of all the jeers that had come her way, all the loneliness, the taunts?
Relationships: Marie Bonnet & Henri, Marie Bonnet & Josée & Burnetta





	By Order Of The Cat

**Author's Note:**

> "Catch the Cat" (sometimes styled as "Catch the Cat!") is a comic published in the British [Bunty](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bunty) comic annual between (to the best of my knowledge) 1977 and 1982. [Here is an example of the comic from the Bunty 1978 annual](http://www.mediafire.com/file/x7twlvprje839li/BuntyCat_1978.pdf/file). There were also three serialisations of "Catch the Cat" by Bunty and the comic was featured in a [Bunty Picture Library](http://girlscomicsofyesterday.com/2016/02/the-cat-on-the-trail-of-the-german-flying-bomb-1976/) and in [Lucky Charm](http://girlscomicsofyesterday.com/2016/10/lucky-charm-25-catch-the-cat/) magazine. This fic is specifically based on the Bunty annual stories, as well as the first and second serialisations. I have yet to be able to get my hands on a scan of the third serialisation and the Picture Library, so I have only the vaguest ideas of what happens in them. (Thank you so much to girlcomicsofyesterday.com for your helpful information!)
> 
> Marie Bonnet is the hero of the comic and the other characters listed in the character tags are running side characters. Of course, I am in no way the owner of the original stories; only a humble reader inspired to give Marie the happy ending she deserves.
> 
> It was my New Year's resolution in 2019 to be the first person to post in any fandom's tag on AO3. This piece was started in 2019, but it wasn't ready for posting until now. Thank you so much to Mum for the editing help!

When the French army came to liberate Marie Bonnet’s town they found it had already been liberated by the townspeople themselves; all the high-ranking German military leaders had already been taken prisoner. Initially the army thanked the leader of the local Resistance, thinking that the rumour about a group of Resistance agents being as good as ten divisions of infantry was true. But, to their surprise, the Resistance leader said – “We did nothing; it was all the Cat!”

The Cat herself was already back home by the time the friendly tanks rolled in. With tears in her eyes, she watched her parents cling to each other and weep. There were no words to describe the great joy that swelled in her heart and swept through her body like a powerful tidal wave, on this day so hard won and so long awaited. Like many of the townsfolk, Marie’s parents took to the streets to celebrate their liberation. But, though she longed to join them, Marie stayed at home.

Because she knew she had to beware! Her town was not the first to be liberated and from other towns had come news reports of suspected German sympathisers being executed in public (men) or stripped naked and having their heads shaved (women). The latter event was known as a tonte. As a woman, Marie didn’t need to fear death, but she had no desire to be publicly humiliated for a crime she had never committed.

In truth, the thought of such a thing scared her in a way that no German ever could. Being subjected to a tonte would be to experience a tenfold magnification of the disapproval and judgement of her friends and neighbours which had always been hard for her to bear, even knowing that one day they would know the truth. Marie would not make herself a target by going outside and reminding people of her distasteful existence. No. Instead, she pulled on her Cat costume under her clothing and crept up to her roof to watch the celebrations, unseen by passers-by in the street below.

As she watched friends and neighbours heading for the town square that was visible from her house, Marie reflected that, now the Germans had been removed from her town and the war was as good as won for France, she could finally reveal her secret identity as the Cat. Her heart dearly yearned for the day when she would no longer be a social pariah due to her perceived German sympathies. But she didn’t know when the right time to tell the townspeople was and, now that the time had arrived, she didn’t quite know _how_ to tell people without being laughed at or doubted; she just didn’t have the words.

If the town came for her, Marie thought, she would have no choice but to _try_ and tell them that she was the Cat. It would be silly not to have some idea about what to do should the worst happen. Lying on the roof, she began to get an idea. She would continue to wear her Cat costume day and night, and, if they came for her... she would be ready to use it. If they saw Marie Bonnet become the Cat before their eyes, she would have no need for words.

To Marie’s relief no mob came knocking at her door that night or the next morning. Mid-afternoon she saw her old friends, Josée and Burnetta, about to turn the corner onto her street. They looked quite conspiratorial, walking closely together with their heads leaning towards each other. Quickly, Marie slipped out of her window and onto the roof again to eavesdrop on their conversation. This is what she heard:

“I heard they’re organising a tonte for this evening,” said Josée. “Do you think they’ll come for Marie?”

“Probably,” Burnetta said. “Should we warn her? I feel almost sorry for her.”

Josée shook her head. “They might come for us, too, thinking we’re German sympathisers just because we talk to her sometimes. And do you really think she doesn’t deserve it?”

Marie didn’t hear Burnetta’s reply because the two girls had reached Josée’s house at the end of the street and gone inside. She hoped that Burnetta had continued to be sympathetic towards her, but she doubted it.

More important than the confirmation of her friends’ continuing negative feelings towards her was the news that tonight was the night Marie would have to put her plan into action. Accordingly, she waited until mid-afternoon, then put on her Cat costume and slipped up to the roof of her house, taking with her a book to help pass the time. She was careful to lie flat on the side of the roof that didn’t face the street so she could avoid being seen by anyone walking below.

A few hours before sundown Marie had almost finished her book; she was also about to miss dinner and was regretting that she hadn’t thought to bring up a snack. Just as she was debating slipping back into the house to eat, she heard voices coming from the street.

Poking her head over the top of the roof, she saw arrayed in the street a crowd of people, mostly men, walking solemnly towards her house. Some faces she recognised from everyday life; some people she recognised from the Resistance. A few women fated for the same treatment as Marie were being prodded forward, their faces grim and their steps halting. Inwardly, Marie winced; most of those women she didn’t recognise as actual German collaborators.

All in all, it was a much more orderly and solemn occasion than she had been expecting; there was even a policeman walking ahead of the crowd in full uniform. But, for all that, it was no less disturbing to witness, knowing what these people had come for and what she must soon do to escape the fate they intended for her.

When he arrived at her house, the policeman knocked on her door. Her father, the mayor, answered it.

It was at that moment that Marie boldly stood up on the roof. Cupping her hands around her mouth she shouted, “Are you looking for Marie Bonnet?”

At the sound of her voice, some of the mob turned to her. She heard several cries of “Look, it is the Cat!” These exclamations caused most everyone else to face her, including the policeman.

“Yes, we are looking for Marie!”

“You won’t find her here,” Marie declared. “Because I am the Cat!”

With that, she pulled back her mask, revealing her face to the assembled crowd. Cries of disbelief greeted her ears. Some of the more bloodthirsty members of the mob began to try and push their way into Marie’s house to get to her roof, so she knew it was time to make her escape. But first, she issued a challenge:

“I dare you to catch me before the sun rises tomorrow. When you fail, you’ll know I speak the truth. Catch me if you can!” With that, she leapt from the rooftop to the one beside it as fast as she could run on the angled slates and shingles. Shouts broke out behind her, but she didn’t dare look back.

“Catch the Cat!”

“Catch her!”

“Catch Marie!”

A sideways glance told Marie that some of the men were keeping pace with her and that it was only a matter of time until someone thought to set up a ladder and follow her over the rooftops. She had to pull a disappearing act, and fast. Coming to a house at the end of the road, she flipped open its skylight and dropped down into the attic. All sound from outside was immediately muffled and she found herself in a dusty, cramped space full of boxes. A space she knew – this was Josée’s house, and she had often played here before the war.

But there was no time for nostalgia now. Marie didn’t stop to take in any details, just threw open the trapdoor, slid down the ladder, and dived out the back window even as she heard the front door opening and feet pounding up the stairs towards her. Ducking into a nearby alleyway, Marie glanced over her shoulder and saw someone coming around the house. She froze, muffling her breathing with one hand as she inched down the alley until she was out of sight. Then, on feet as light as her namesake’s, she quickly ran to another nearby house where she climbed back up to the rooftops, having successfully evaded her pursuers.

It was the escape route she had planned should the Nazis ever come to her door. She had others to use depending on whether or not she had to take her parents with her. She could have run all of them in her sleep, and actually had in her nightmares many times. But now that she was finally escaping by this route in real life, she found it as simple and exhilarating as if she was merely playing a children’s game. And it was not death, torture, or imprisonment she was running from but the public humiliation of her civilian reputation. If she succeeded in this escape, she would never again be Marie Bonnet, the hated German sympathiser. She would be Marie Bonnet, the true and heroic Cat. She was so ready for this freedom that her blood was fairly singing with it.

Marie and her pursuers played cat-and-mouse with each other for hours. If she hadn’t foregone a head start to issue her challenge, they wouldn’t even have had the illusion of a chance of catching her. Marie zig-zagged from rooftop to rooftop as unpredictably as possible, to keep any pursuers from guessing her intended trajectory. She took any chance she got to use rooflines and chimneys to fool the eye into thinking she had vanished or was hiding. At times she hid in strangers’ attics, at times slipped down into alleys and side-streets.

By the time she had lost her followers, the late summer sun had set. Finally pausing to draw breath, Marie listened but heard no footsteps nearby. At that, she could have laughed aloud; she was free!

But what if Marie’s pursuers didn’t tell the town that Marie had declared herself the Cat? Then her escape would be only temporary. As she silently slipped over the rooftops, in a straight line and at a more sedate pace, Marie’s thoughts churned. A plan began to form, but she would need to retrace her steps to execute it. It wouldn’t be safe to go home tonight in case someone was waiting for her at her house. Tomorrow morning she’d return to carry out her plan and, hopefully, anyone following her would have given up by then.

Marie knew she wouldn’t be able to fully relax until she was safely tucked away in some kind of shelter for the rest of the night. Though she could go off into the forest or the quarry and sleep in a barn or shed, she’d rather be somewhere closer to home knowing that she’d get no dinner tonight and no breakfast in the morning either. Was it safe enough to go to one of the Cat’s allies? Although there had been some members of the Resistance in the mob of people who had come to her house, a few had been absent.

After some internal debate, Marie set off for the home of Henri, a wireless radio operator who had been of great help to the Cat. She knew she’d be welcomed no matter who she turned out to be under her mask, as long as Henri recognised her from all her previous visits.

As she passed the market, she saw something that might help her put her plan into action tomorrow morning – a tin of paint left out near a shop window that was being painted. The ever-resourceful Cat always found something to suit the needs of her situation. After looking all around her to make sure that she was alone, Marie silently slipped down to the ground to retrieve it, along with a rag she could use as a paintbrush. Tearing the rag in half, she used part of it to secure the paint tin around her waist by looping it through the handle. The other half she tucked into her makeshift belt. This made climbing back up to the rooftops more cumbersome, but Marie managed it in complete silence from ease of long practice hauling various objects up the sides of buildings to aid in her sabotage. After tucking the paint tin and both parts of the rag out of sight behind a chimney, she resumed course to Henri’s house even as the light began to fade from the sky.

When she arrived on Henri’s balcony, Marie peered inside to see Henri sitting on the edge of his bed, apparently about to turn in for the night. She knocked on the window, and Henri started and looked around, his hand going to a drawer in his bedside table which perhaps contained a gun or a knife. When he saw her at the window his eyes widened, but he gestured that she should enter without going for a weapon. Marie did so, but came only so far into the room that the curtains would hide her from the street. If Henri turned out to be unsympathetic, she wanted to be able to get away as quickly as possible. 

Standing to greet her, Henri said, “The Cat. What can I do for you, my friend? We are liberated, you know. You can retire if you want to.”

Marie couldn’t help but smile at his friendly joking. “I have one last job to do, Henri. The townspeople are chasing me, thinking that I am a traitor to France. My civilian identity is sympathetic to the Germans, you see. It is how I learnt their secrets, by pretending to be their friend. I can prove that I’ve really been the Cat all along, but only if I can hide safely for the rest of the night. Will you help me?”

Henri looked Marie over with a serious expression. “No one in this town has done more for France than you, Cat. It would be my honour to give you shelter here until morning.”

“If you betray me, you will regret it,” Marie said, folding her arms.

Henri looked hurt. “I would not give you to the Germans, and I will not give you to anyone else who wishes to do you harm either.”

“I’m sorry,” Marie said, ashamed. “It’s only that... I am afraid.”

“Afraid?” Henri said, his eyes widening. “But you are the Cat!” Marie gave a woebegone smile. “But come,” Henri said, drawing her into the room and shutting the window fully behind her, “sit down and I will get you something to drink. Then I can make up a bed on the sofa for you if you wish.”

“Could I possibly trouble you for something to eat?” Marie asked, sitting down at the chair Henri had offered her at the table by the window. “I left the house without any dinner...”

“But of course,” he said, leaving the room to find something for her. Sitting alone at the table, Marie took a few moments to thank her lucky stars that her instinct in coming here had been right. It looked as though she’d have not only a bed for the night, but food as well. And all those who were searching for her could continue their search until daybreak if they wished, but they would never, ever find the Cat.

Several minutes later Henri returned with some bread and cheese, and Marie fell upon them with great appetite. As she ate, Henri wrapped himself in a dressing gown and came to sit with her companionably.

“I’m sorry to keep you up,” Marie said, but Henri only shook his head.

“It’s my pleasure to help.”

“Don’t you want to know who I am?” Marie couldn’t help but ask, setting down her cup of water.

“I am curious, of course,” Henri admitted with a shrug. “But if you don’t wish for me to know...”

A group of Resistance agents, some townspeople, and a policeman already knew, and come morning so would everyone else. Marie hadn’t expected the immense luxury of a friend to help her through this night, but now that she had one she was strongly tempted to tell Henri who she was. Perhaps it could be practice for telling more people tomorrow.

Without saying another word, Marie took off her mask.

Henri started in shock. “The mayor’s daughter? Marie Bonnet? But you are so young. You must have been a child when the war started... I remember you bowed to the Germans the day that they arrived.”

Looking back on that now, Marie winced as she remembered how Burnetta had said she had shamed the whole town. “That was the day I first decided to become the Cat. Bowing got me into their confidence immediately,” she explained, and although her actions had felt justified at the time that somehow now seemed like a woefully inadequate defence.

Henri shook his head, saying, “Only someone with a strong will would be able to lie so completely to the face of the enemy. You are a braver one than me, Cat, but I think I already knew that.” Marie just stared back into his kind face, hardly able to believe the compliment.

“Do your parents know that you are the Cat?” Henri asked.

“No,” said Marie. “You’re the first person I’ve ever told face-to-face.”

“You honour me, then.”

Marie smiled, but tears had come into her eyes. Some part of her had always feared that, after the war, nothing the Cat had done would be good enough to convince the townspeople and her old friends to forgive her apparent betrayal and cowardice. But Henri, at least, was on her side now.

“Thank you, Henri,” she said, and he silently passed her a napkin so that she could wipe her eyes. “If you please, it has been a long day...”

“Of course,” said Henri. He led her into his sitting room, where he quickly made up a bed for her on the sofa with several blankets and pillows. She requested an alarm clock and he was able to provide one. Then he left, turning off the light for her. And Marie had not lied – she was exhausted. Feeling comfortable and safe, she soon drifted off to sleep.

Marie slept, but Henri could not. His friend the Cat, his comrade, whose good deeds in the name of France were innumerable, could be in big trouble tomorrow. She deserved a far better reward from the townspeople than the one that currently awaited her, but what could Henri do to help? After much thought, he got up from his bed and went to the radio he used to contact other members of the Resistance. He would put in a call to Paris – hopefully, it would be enough.

The next morning, Marie woke an hour before dawn to the forceful metallic clanging of a spring-wound alarm clock. After hastily silencing it, she slipped back through Henri’s apartment to reach the balcony, then out of the house and off into the darkness.

After making a quick stop at the market rooftop to retrieve her paint tin and rags, Marie retraced her steps back to the town square. It was a risk since her house was so close to the square as to be visible from it. Most pursuers would likely have long since gone to bed, but Marie couldn’t be too careful when her friendships and her future depended on winning the challenge the Cat had made last night. So she proceeded cautiously, silent and invisible as a shadow among shadows, alert and ready to respond to any unexpected sound or glimpse of movement from the street below.

Soon Marie had arrived at the town square. This was the place where she was sure she would have been shorn, had last night’s mob managed to get their hands on her – but, instead, all they’d get from her here was a calling card from the Cat.

She looked around for a suitable place to paint her message, envisioning the landscape in her mind’s eye since it was too dark to fully see all the nearby buildings. Her eye fell on the black shape of the town hall and she was struck with an idea. The dome of the town hall was the site of her first-ever triumph against the Nazis – where she had removed their swastika flag and replaced it with the proud French Tricolore the day after they arrived in town. She could paint her message there.

It was even more awkward to carry the paint tin up the side of the dome than it had been to carry it over the rooftops, but Marie was so determined that she hardly noticed it knocking against her thigh. By the time she reached the top, she knew what she was going to write. Grasping the rag in her hand, she wrote in bold capital letters:

PAS DE TONTES ICI  
PAR ORDRE DU CHAT  
ENFIN SIGNÉ – MARIE BONNET

Or, “No public humiliations here by order of the Cat. Finally signed – Marie Bonnet.”

Her heart was awash with emotion as she put the finishing touch on the message – her trademark drawing of the head of a cat. Soon, so soon, the town would know her secret! But she couldn’t admire her handiwork for long. Looking to the east, she saw that the first blush of dawn was beginning to tint the horizon. It was time to climb down from the dome, abandon her paint tin, and find a nearby roof from which to observe the public reaction to her graffiti. Marie chose a house situated opposite the painted message that had a chimney which would hide her from the square. If she stretched out flat, it would be difficult to see her from the ground on any side of the building.

Although Marie had expected to be too anxious to go back to sleep, she fell into a light doze as the sun rose higher and the air began to warm with the heat of a summer’s day. It was well after dawn – even if they found her now, she had won her challenge and proved she was the Cat. She was dimly aware of her surroundings but heard nothing threatening and so did not open her eyes. It was only when she heard footsteps that she awoke to see people beginning to walk through the streets, many of them headed for the town square.

Marie heard a shout. Someone had noticed her message. She couldn’t see the square because of her concealing chimney, but she listened attentively as the crowd began to grow. She couldn’t make out any distinct sentences, but the name of the Cat – and the name of Marie Bonnet – were on everybody’s lips. To her alarm, she began to see policemen appearing. Was this a sign that mob justice was about to erupt again, and people would be coming after her for telling lies about the identity of the Cat? Or was it good news – a sign that people were becoming vocal in support of her? Marie had to get a better idea of what was going on.

Drawing herself up onto her knees, Marie risked a brief glance around the side of the chimney. What looked like the entire town was gathered in the square, craning their necks to look at her message or her house, talking animatedly. No one gave the rooftop she was concealed on even the slightest glance. Several policemen had installed themselves around the outside of the crowd.

A man with a megaphone was making his way to the far edge of the square. It was the policeman who had come to her house the day before. When he had taken his place in front of the crowd, the other policemen blew their whistles to quieten everyone down.

To Marie’s surprise, the policeman with the megaphone began telling everyone about the challenge she had issued the night before, the chase she had led.

“AND SO,” he concluded, “MARIE BONNET IS THE CAT.”

The crowd was silent. Someone started to applaud. Then, the crowd erupted into cheers.

On her hidden rooftop, Marie sat transfixed. Her heart was beating harder than it would have had she been facing down the barrel of a Nazi gun. The S.S., attack dogs, fire, drowning, and falling held no fear for her compared to the fear of being Marie Bonnet in public in that moment.

But Marie Bonnet was the Cat. And so Marie stood. Without stopping to think, she leapt from one rooftop to the next, making her way around the square towards the front of the crowd. As soon as someone saw her, a cheer went up.

“The Cat! The Cat! The Cat!”

The crowd surged forward and the policemen blew their whistles to keep order. Marie froze, not wanting to cause a stampede. The policemen continued to blow their whistles until the one who was holding the megaphone had made his way to the wall of the house upon which she stood. When he held it out to her, Marie just stared.

To get the megaphone, she’d have to climb down from the roof. Was this a trap? But no, she could come down partway and take the megaphone without fear of being grabbed, so, that was what she did. Snatching the megaphone from the policeman’s outstretched hand, Marie retreated to the safety of the rooftop and gazed out over the expectant crowd before her.

Near the front she saw her parents, their arms entwined. Near the middle of the crowd were Josée and Burnetta, looking as astonished as Marie had ever seen them. As the crowd saw her take the megaphone they began to quiet down. Soon Marie was looking out over a sea of silent, expectant faces. Her heart was still beating rapidly, but this time with hope; this was her chance to explain herself. Soon everyone would know the truth.

Marie pulled off her mask, revealing her face. “Yes, I am Marie Bonnet. Yes, I am the Cat. Everything I did, I did for France!”

The crowd cheered.

“Many of you have seen me be friendly with the Germans. I worked as the Commandant’s secretary, I curried favour with them. And I tell you, it was all a lie. I hate Nazis. I especially hated that fool, the Commandant!”

Marie’s words were tumbling out of her now, as all the things she’d always wanted to say came crowding into her mind. “The Commandant himself told me where prisoners were taken, where documents were kept, what heinous plans he had for this town. I stole Germany’s secrets and gave them to France instead!”

At that, the crowd broke out into such enthusiastic cheering that the policemen had to blow their whistles for several minutes to restore order. Marie took a deep breath. There was a lot she could say about how much she loved France and hated the Nazis, but while she had the townspeople’s attention she had a few other things that _needed_ be said.

“It was not my intention to deceive anybody, but I could not risk anyone getting hurt to keep my secrets. I had to do it for the good of France. I’m sorry I could not tell you the truth sooner.” Her gaze passed over Josée and Burnetta as she spoke, flicked to her schoolmistress and the other students in her class, then to the strangers who had spat at her in the streets. She saw more surprise and interest than anger, which was a reassuring sign.

“You all know the things the Cat has done. I stole German secrets, I sabotaged their factories, I freed RAF prisoners, I brought supplies to the Resistance, and so much more. I will let my deeds speak for themselves. If you want to know if Marie Bonnet is a true Frenchwoman, you need only look to the deeds of the Cat. Vive la France!”

“Vive la France!” the crowd cheered back. “Vive la France!”

Several people called out, “Vive le Chat!”

“Vive le Chat!”

“Vive le Chat!”

“Vive Marie Bonnet!”

“ _Vive Marie Bonnet!”_

As the cheer went up in Marie’s honour, her eyes filled with tears. She’d never experienced, nor expected, such an outpouring of gratitude and appreciation before in her life. Her heart was filled with a deep joy that she had not felt since before the Nazis first arrived in France.  
  


That evening, there was a knock at Marie’s door.

After her triumphant speech from the rooftops of the town square, the chief of police had declared that, in accordance with the Cat’s wishes, there would be no tontes in her town. Instead, suspected German sympathisers of both sexes would be thrown into jail pending a swift judiciary process, which was fine with Marie. Then Marie had descended from the roof and mingled with the excited crowd. It seemed that every assembled citizen had something to say to her, and she was thanked for every one of the Cat’s deeds whether great or small. A mother whose child she had stolen medicine for several years ago tearfully kissed her cheek, while so many people shook her hand that she feared her arm would fall off. It was all so exhilarating and Marie felt she might just float away.

Several of the people who had come to her house last night also apologised for mistaking her for a German sympathiser and trying to catch her. Marie was in such a joyful mood that she couldn’t help but forgive them. Even Josée and Burnetta had come up to her and hugged her.

“We’re sorry,” they had said. “We did help the Cat when she had need of us, so would you forgive us?”

And Marie had said, “Of course!”

There hadn’t been time or space for more words between them, but Marie knew now that her friendship with her two oldest friends wasn’t beyond repair, as she had feared. She looked forward to visiting them in the coming days, like she had in peaceful times.

After all that, she had gone back to her house and eaten what felt like the biggest meal she’d ever had. Her parents were full of questions, but she was starting to droop from exhaustion so her father had convinced her mother it would be better to ask her everything tomorrow.

Now, she had just finished her meal and was about to retire upstairs. But the sound of a knock on the door made her pause, and her father opened it to see who was there.

It was Henri, breathing hard as if he’d just run over from his apartment. “Marie,” he said, greeting her and her parents with a polite nod of his head. “I hope you don’t mind that I came to your house. I have news from Paris.”

“Do they need the Cat?” Marie said, thinking that she might have to decline any requests now that her secret was well and truly out of the bag.

“No, it’s not that,” said Henri. “Last night I radioed to tell them about your situation with the townspeople. Just now they replied. And they said that the Cat is under consideration for an Ordre de la Libération – the medal given for exceptional resistance activities – by General de Gaulle himself!”

“For _me_?” Marie exclaimed.

“Yes, for you! The Cat has been a beacon of hope not just to our town but all over France. Not only that, but you travelled to Germany itself to help the Resistance. You deserve this medal more than anyone else I know.”

As Henri spoke, Marie’s parents’ eyes began to look as if they were about to pop out of their heads. Up until this moment, they had likely never imagined their daughter could have done such a dangerous thing as to conduct resistance activities in Germany itself, even if they had known that the Cat had sneaked into Germany to retrieve stolen blueprints hidden on the backs of paintings. Marie had a feeling that the explanations she would be giving tomorrow had just doubled in length.

But she wasn’t thinking about any of that now. _Paris_ knew that Marie Bonnet was the Cat. _General Charles De Gaulle_ _himself_ knew that Marie Bonnet was the Cat. Marie could hardly believe it, but she knew what it meant – that soon all the world would know the name of the Cat, and nobody would ever doubt her again!

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Historical note: the _tontes_ were real, and I tried to be historically accurate in my description of them. Unfortunately, the Wikipedia page about them is not available in English, only French; but you can find it [HERE](https://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Femmes_tondues) if you're interested.
> 
> Kudos and comments welcome... although I don't expect many comments on such a niche work as this!  
> EDIT: Okay, I MUST know - how did this story get 49 views? If you know the answer to the mystery, please comment below or message me at a-still-small-vox.tumblr.com/ask ! (No account necessary)


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